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"You and me
So affectionate to each other like this,
Where, in what form,
Shall we meet again?"
- In the Evening by Kim Gwang Seop
"I feel like I already know you," Halmeoni says, "Suho used to talk about you all the time."
It’s been three months since Suho went into a coma, and Sieun is sitting across from his grandmother at their kitchen table. There’s a steaming mug of tea in his hands, and the older woman is watching him warily, like she’s afraid he might disappear before her eyes.
Halmeoni's hair has more gray streaks in it than the first time he saw her in Suho’s hospital room. She looks both ancient and fragile at the same time, and it fills Sieun with sick guilt.
She has been asking Sieun to come over for weeks, and he always finds an excuse not to go. He tells her he has homework or nonexistent plans with his parents, but the truth is he can't bear the thought of being at Suho’s house without him.
Sieun knows his pain is incomparable to his grandmother's grief, who must eat, sleep, and live in this haunted house while her only grandson breathes through a respirator in a cold hospital miles away.
So today, Sieun bit the bullet and accepted her invitation.
He is already regretting that decision.
There are pictures of Suho everywhere.
Suho, as a chubby-faced baby, wearing a delicate green hanbok on his first birthday.
Suho, at four or five years old, jumping into a muddy puddle with yellow rain boots on.
Suho, as Sieun knows him, with his short-cropped hair and that easygoing smile. He has his arms around his grandmother, and he’s smiling.
Sieun can’t look at the photos without wanting to scream.
And he can’t look at Halmeoni without his eyes burning.
So Sieun stares at the dark swirl of tea in his cup instead.
It’s starting to scald his palms.
He holds the mug tighter.
"I'd ask him how his day was when he got home from work, and he'd just tell me about you." She continues in that soft, scratchy voice.
Sieun’s heart gives a low thud. It feels like a casket closing in his chest.
He doesn’t speak. If he does, he will fall apart and he might not be able to put himself back together again.
Thankfully, Halmeoni doesn’t seem to mind that she's the only one talking.
"Sometimes he'd tell me about what you were up to, but most of the time it was just mundane little observations,” Halmeoni says with a fond smile on her face, “He’s such a cute little thing, my boy."
Her sweet words cut him to the bone.
Sieun squeezes his eyes closed.
He sees Suho in his mind's eye, so clear and sharp, it feels more like a memory,
“There’s this boy at school. His name is Sieun. He's the smartest kid in our grade." Suho is sitting at this same table, snapping the ends off green beans while Halmeoni chops up garlic cloves at the counter.
“He's pretty like a girl, but scowls like a little devil," He laughs and flicks another green bean into the bowl, "All of the kids at school are kind of afraid of him, but I think he's cute. He's like that feral kitten we used to feed at the farmer's market, remember?"
“Sieun hates spicy food," Suho says while he hovers over his grandmother's pot of spicy tofu soup bubbling on the stove. "He couldn't eat any of this if he was here. I keep telling him he needs to build his tolerance or he's going to miss out on a lot of good food. Don't you agree, Halmeoni?"
"Sieun sucks at basketball. I whooped his ass on the court today," He says, still panting from running home after the basketball game.
Halmeoni swats him over the head with a roll of newspaper, "Watch your mouth, Ahn Suho."
"Ow, ow! Okay sorry, butt!" Suho ducks his head, wincing, "I meant butt. Sheesh, did you have to hit me so hard?"
And just like that Suho disappears, bit by bit, like scattering cherry blossoms in a spring breeze.
The kitchen is cold and gray again, and the light is gone.
Sieun shudders.
"I've always felt bad,” Halmeoni whispers, “Suho’s parents died in a car accident when he was only a few months old and he got stuck with a sorry old woman like me.” She wrings her hands together tightly in her lap.
“I was diagnosed with kidney disease when he was in middle school and he stopped doing martial arts so he could take me to my dialysis appointments. I didn’t ask him to. I never wanted him to stop.” She looks up at Sieun, guilt etched all over her face. He knows that feeling well.
“He loved competing so much. It was like an art form to him. But the moment we left the clinic, Suho went straight to his instructor and told him he wouldn’t be coming back to the gym. He picked up all of those part-time jobs to help pay for my hospital bills.” Halmeoni inhales sharply, “Suho didn’t get to be a normal high school student like all of the other children because of me.”
Sieun's heart softens. He wishes he could take all of her pain away, but the only person who can do that is lying in a hospital bed.
“Suho didn’t see it that way,” Sieun says carefully, “He never complained or put up a fuss. He wanted to take care of you. He loved you the most in the entire world.”
Sieun recalls the way Suho spoke of his grandmother with warmth, his eyes twinkling under the restaurant lights, It’s just me and Halmeoni. I’m all she has.
“Oh Sieun. He shouldn’t have had to take care of me,” Halmeoni says bitterly, “He’s a child and I'm an adult. I should've been the one taking care of him. Now he’s…”
She shakes her head and dabs at her nose with a handkerchief.
“Halmeoni.” Sieun says softly.
Why can’t she see that none of this is her fault?
It was his fault, and his alone.
She lifts her chin and tries to smile.
“I’m not the only person he loved, you know,” Halmeoni says tenderly, “Suho loved you to the core, Sieun. He never said it, but he didn’t have to. I know him better than myself and he loved you."
She looks at him with bright, open eyes. He doesn't deserve her kindness.
Sieun’s lower lip trembles.
His next breath comes out more like a whimper.
I can’t do this, he thinks, this is too much.
He swallows around the painful lump in his throat.
Suho loved you to the core.
And look how Sieun repaid him.
Halmeoni leans across the table and pats his hand, “So you don’t have to feel guilty about what happened, okay? I don't blame you, and Suho certainly wouldn’t blame you either if he were here. I've been watching you for the past few weeks, and honestly, I'm worried about you, Sieun-ah. It's like you're not even alive."
It's because I'm not.
I wasn't there with Woo Young and Beom Seok and the others when it happened, he thinks, but I died in the ring that day all the same.
"I don't know how to do this without him." Sieun admits.
"One minute at a time,” Halmeoni says firmly, “Then one hour. And then an hour turns into a day, and we keep going from there.”
Sieun nods.
He sips his tea. He’s pretty sure it's peppermint but he can’t taste it.
Sieun hasn't enjoyed food or drink in months.
"Do you want to see his room?" Halmeoni asks suddenly.
"I shouldn't." Sieun says.
It sounds like he’s saying I shouldn’t impose, but he actually means I can’t.
"Please, come. It's fine." She says, already standing up. “I haven’t been back there since everything happened. We can go together.”
He hears it in her voice right then: Halmeoni needs Sieun to be strong so that she can be strong too.
“Okay.” He says.
Sieun follows the older woman down a hallway with creaky floorboards, past a bathroom and a spare room.
Suho’s bedroom is at the very end.
The door is closed.
They stop in front of it.
Halmeoni reaches for the doorknob, her fingers shaking. When she grabs the handle, she draws in a breath. Sieun places his hand on top of hers. Her skin is soft and dry. She might be the bravest person he knows.
“Together.” Sieun says.
Halmeoni smiles, “Together.”
They twist the knob at the same time and walk over the threshold together too.
Sieun has to step over the faded t-shirts, gym shorts, hoodies, and house slippers haphazardly sprawled across the floor to get to the center of Suho’s room. An electric fan stands in one corner, pointing at his unmade bed and a rack of dumbbells. There are posters of Bruce Lee and Slam Dunk, Cristiano Ronaldo and the Amazing Spiderman pinned to the wall above his TV. Across from his bed, he has several hanging shelves overflowing with MMA trophies, medals, and an array of taekwondo belts that go all the way up to the 9th dan black belt.
Sieun walks around the room slowly, taking everything in.
This place is so full of Suho. In here, he is still awake and alive. A person who’s in a coma wouldn’t have an opened can of Coke still sitting on his nightstand, ready to be finished. His uniform wouldn’t be hanging on the door, pressed and prepared for school the next day. His keys wouldn’t be dangling from a peg on the wall, ready to be snatched and plugged into the ignition of his motorcycle.
Sieun lingers in front of the wall of trophies. He traces the characters of Suho’s name with his index finger: Ahn Suho.
“Hi, Suho.” Sieun whispers to the first-place trophy. He says it so quietly he doesn’t think Halmeoni hears him, even in the silence.
The trophy doesn’t answer of course, but it is proof that he existed.
Suho isn’t a ghost or a figment of Sieun’s imagination.
He was real, and he still is.
"That boy, " Halmeoni scoffs quietly under her breath, “He never cleans his room.”
Sieun turns around and sees the tears on her face.
He freezes in place.
She covers her mouth to stifle the sobs.
“I told him to clean his room before he left,” Halmeoni repeats shakily.
Sieun should comfort her but all of the words that come to mind seem pointless,
It's okay.
It isn’t though. Nothing is okay.
I’m sure he’ll be fine.
Sieun isn’t sure of anything anymore.
His throat feels like it's been sealed off with wet cement.
"Excuse me.” She chokes out. “Please take as much time as you need.”
Halmeoni backs out of the room and closes the door behind her. Sieun can hear the muffled sounds of her crying as she retreats down the hallway.
Abruptly, Sieun is alone.
A bolt of pain radiates across his hand.
Sieun was clenching his hand into a fist so hard that his nails have torn through the skin, drawing blood.
Halmeoni told him not to blame himself, but how could he not?
If it wasn’t for Sieun, Suho would still be here with his grandmother.
That is an inarguable fact.
People who get involved with Sieun get hurt. And sometimes they get killed.
This is another inarguable fact.
Sieun is standing in front of Suho’s bed now and he is bone tired. He sits down on the edge of the mattress and looks out the window. There are people passing by on the street. They have no idea who Suho is. He can’t decide if they’re lucky or unlucky.
Sieun sinks down onto the blankets and buries his head into Suho’s pillow.
It still smells like him.
I miss him, he thinks, but that isn’t quite true. It's like missing a vital organ.
You can’t miss your heart or your brain.
It’s like you’re not even alive, Halmeoni’s voice echoes in his mind.
You just die without them.
Sieun grabs the other pillow and holds it to his chest as tight as he can.
He knows that Suho would tease him mercilessly for this if he were here. But he’s not here so Sieun can do what he likes.
Sieun doesn’t know how long he stays like that; squeezing the pillow with his eyes closed and a stream of hot tears trailing down his cheeks. It could have been ten minutes or an hour.
He doesn't mean to fall asleep either.
But he's so tired.
Come back, Sieun thinks as he drifts off, even as a shadow, even as a dream. Just come back.**
"Sieun-ah, are you sleepy?" A familiar, warm voice asks.
His eyes flash open.
As always, the first thing Sieun sees is Suho.
The other boy is lying on his side an inch or two away, propped up by an arm so that he’s hovering over Sieun’s face. There are no scratches or bruises on his skin, no tubes coming out of his arms, and no respirator.
Suho is awake and alive.
Sieun doesn’t question it.
"Yes," Sieun says. “I’m sleepy.”
Next, Sieun notices they’re on a green hill in the shade of a large oak tree.
The breeze is sweet with the scent of honeysuckles.
The sun is shining.
The sky is blue.
All is well.
Nothing hurts.
He doesn’t question this either.
"It's time to wake up though." Suho says.
"I don't want to." He sounds like a petulant little kid, but he can’t help it. This is the first time he's seen him outside of a hospital bed in what feels like forever.
Why would he want to wake up when the only person he truly loves is right here in front of him?
Sieun drinks in everything: Suho's dark eyes, the slope of his nose, the high arc of his cheekbones, the curve of his mouth. He is so beautiful it hurts.
A smile curls the corners of Suho’s lips, "Why not?"
"I want to stay with you." Sieun says, shuffling closer to him. Suho's jacket has been folded under Sieun's head as a makeshift pillow, and it crinkles as he moves.
They’ve never been this close before.
In real life, Sieun would be embarrassed.
In this dream, Sieun wants to crawl inside Suho’s skin and live inside him forever.
A creepy visual, but a true one.
"I know,” Suho brushes the hair out of Sieun’s eyes, “ But you still have to go back." His touch is so light that he hardly feels it. There is a raw tenderness to Suho’s gaze that makes Sieun’s heart skip a beat.
"Will you come with me?" Sieun pleads. He feels tears gathering in his eyes.
Suho only smiles. It's a secretive, cheeky smile like he's hiding something.
"Can I stay a little longer at least?" He asks next.
Suho pretends to ponder this question.
"Alright, one more minute won't hurt." He says finally. "But you have to go back after. Deal?"
"Deal." Sieun agrees.
A minute later, Suho moves across the grass towards Sieun.
He thinks that Suho is going to kiss him and then he thinks that he might let him.
Which is crazy, right?
Suho is his friend, and yet--
Instead, the other boy leans down to Sieun’s ear, so close his lips brush his skin.
Its more of a kiss than a whisper, so in a way, Sieun was right. He shivers at the contact, his eyelids fluttering closed.
"See you tomorrow." Suho promises.
When Sieun wakes up, he doesn't know where he is. He blinks at the unfamiliar dark shapes in the room, disoriented.
Then he sees the taekwondo belts and the Spiderman poster on the wall.
Right.
He’s in Suho’s room.
Halmeoni must’ve been mortified when she found him here like this.
Sieun slips his cell phone out of his pocket and turns on the screen.
His eyes widen.
5:55 am.
He'd slept for ten whole hours.
Why didn’t she wake him up?
Then Sieun realizes he isn't on top of the covers anymore and Suho's comforter is pulled over him. He's not wearing his gray hoodie either. It's hanging on the wall, next to Suho's blue windbreaker. There's a small carton of strawberry milk and a bag of chips on the nightstand that wasn't there before too.
On closer inspection, Sieun sees that they’re not just any old chips.
They’re honey twist snacks-–the kind that you get from a vending machine.
His favorite.
Sieun and Suho used to take turns getting each other snacks from the vending machine during the breaks at school.
Honey twists and strawberry milk for Sieun.
Orion poca chips and an iced coffee drink for Suho.
For a blissful second, Sieun thinks that Suho has done all this. After a long night playing video games and watching movies, Sieun accidentally fell asleep on his bed. Suho must've tucked him in, took off his coat, and left him his favorite snack. He’s probably in the bathroom right now. Or maybe he went to the convenience store down the street for a late-night snack.
That guy is always hungry.
The past three months have been nothing but a bad dream, and they will laugh about it when Suho returns.
Yes.
That's it.
All is well.
Nothing hurts.
Then he remembers.
Sieun remembers Beomseok’s pathetic, empty expression in the classroom, he remembers the shattered windows and Woo Young’s shattered ankle, he remembers fighting with all his might, and it still not being enough to bring Suho back.
Sieun has lost his friend all over again.
He thought he didn’t have any tears left to cry. His eyes are already swollen, and his cheeks are still crusted over with the salty remains of his tears from earlier.
But he’s crying again–all over a bag of chips.
Suho probably mentioned to Halmeoni that they were his favorite.
She’d gone out and bought it for him to cheer him up, then found him asleep in Suho’s bed.
She must think he's the most pathetic boy in the world.
"Sieun-ah," Halmeoni calls from outside the door.
A beat of silence.
Sieun is starting to think he imagined it when he hears her voice again, “Sieun, are you awake? Can I come in?”
What a strange question.
This is her house, and Suho’s room, not Sieun’s. She doesn’t have to ask to come in. He stands up quickly, wipes the tears off his cheeks with the back of his hand, and rushes to open the door.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” He says quickly, “I’ll leave right away–”
“No, it’s not that,” Halmeoni stares up at him, wide-eyed, “It’s Suho.”
Sieun’s heart plummets.
His chest constricts.
He can’t remember how to breathe.
Halmeoni is barely holding onto the house phone. She’s shaking so badly that she almost drops it, twice. The receiver is still lit up and blinking like someone’s on the other end.
Sieun knows that number.
The hospital.
"What?” Sieun asks hoarsely. “What about Suho?”
Fresh tears spring to Halmeoni’s eyes, "My baby, he's--he's--"
Gone?
Dead?
Sieun has prepared himself for this moment. He always knew there was a possibility that Suho may never wake up. But it still feels like he’s been hit by a truck and his guts have been blown across the freeway.
Then a tremulous smile spreads across the older woman’s face, and it’s the only thing that stops Sieun from vomiting right all over her hardwood floors.
She takes his hand and squeezes it so tightly it hurts.
"Suho is awake," Halmeoni says finally. "And he's asking for you."